Sunday, December 23, 2007

After yesterdays 4-1 thrashing of Pompey at Anfield (a game in which Torres created the first two goals and scored the last two himself) I thought it was time for a compilation of the new number 9 in action for the mighty Reds. I apologise in advance for the music.

Monday, December 10, 2007

There is no point in trying to cover up my soccer-video-game-nerdism. It is so rampant that the only choice I have is to revel in it. With that in mind, watch this. Holy flurking shnit. This, my friends, is the end-product of what I can only assume is an entire life wasted playing video games. I wonder what the guy who pulled this off looks like. Poor soul. How long has it been since he's seen the sun? And yet I'm strangely impressed...

My birthday- December 8- is a an interesting day (not least because it was the day I was born). Not only do I share a birthday with Jim Morrison, but it is also the day that John Lennon was murdered in New York in 1980. Now, my birthday was f&*kin' awesome this year, but this letter from Yoko Ono on my birthday to her late husband on the 27th anniversary of his death has caused me to take a bit of a deep breath and think about how lucky I am to have the life that I do.

December 8, 2007I miss you, John. 27 years later, I still wish I could turn back the clock to the Summer of 1980. I remember everything - sharing our morning coffee, walking in the park together on a beautiful day, and seeing your hand stretched to mine - holding it, reassuring me that I shouldn't worry about anything because our life was good.

I had no idea that life was about to teach me the toughest lesson of all. I learned the intense pain of losing a loved one suddenly, without warning, and without having the time for a final hug and the chance to say, "I love you," for the last time. The pain and shock of that sudden loss is with me every moment of every day. When I touched John's side of our bed on the night of December 8th, 1980, I realized that it was still warm. That moment has haunted me for the past 27 years - and will stay with me forever.

Even harder for me is watching what was taken away from our beautiful boy, Sean. He lives in silent anger over not having his Dad, whom he loved so much, around to share his life with. I know we are not alone. Our pain is one shared by many other families who are suffering as the victims of senseless violence. This pain has to stop.

Let's not waste the lives of those we have lost. Let's, together, make the world a place of love and joy and not a place of fear and anger. This day of John's passing has become more and more important for so many people around the world as the day to remember his message of Peace and Love and to do what each of us can to work on healing this planet we cherish. Let's: Think Peace, Act Peace, and Spread Peace. John worked for it all his life. He said, "there's no problem, only solutions." Remember, we are all together. We can do it, we must. I love you! Yoko Ono Lennon

Monday, December 3, 2007

On the eve of my indoor soccer play-offs semi-final, I find myself in a pensive mood. As a more defensive-oriented player I've been thinking back on this fantastic tackle Javier Mascherano made during LFC's must-must win triumph over Porto last week as inspiration for tonights do-or die game. With that in mind, I present the following: Although that tackle isn't in this comp, it still shows why he is easily one of the best defensive midfielders in the world. Here's to you Monster Masch!

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Yo. So...it's been a while my friends. Do to my ill-advised continuing pursuit of a literary stardom, I have been neglecting my (very povo) blog. So, a heartfealt apology for the paucity of posts goes out to L'Alex (who I'm pretty sure is the only person in the world who raeds this thing, and probably even he has given up on it at this point).

SO...Steve McLaren is stuffed. I got up for work and chucked on Englands qualifier with Croatia on Sopcast as I got ready, and imagin my (mild) surprise when I saw that Ingerland were already 2-0 down after 15 minutes. By the time I got to work however, they had tied the game with about 25 minutes to go, from what sounds like a pretty sweet Crouch goal (on ya Crouchy!!!). I could only laugh however when I checked the final score to find out they had been knocked out with a 75th minute 30-yard screamer. How England has never one a major tournament since '66 is puzzling enough, but not even qualifying for Euro is downright hilarious. A team that boasts Gerrard, Lampard, Hargreaves, J. Cole., A. Cole, Crouch, SWP, Owen, Rooney, Terry, Ferdinand, etc., and can't beat Russia, Croatia, Israel or (er...) Andorra is...well...I dunno what. I know Owen, Ferdinand, Rooney, and Terry were out for this Croatia game, but still. I'm guessing McLaren will be giving his "i've-just-been-sacked" press conference any second now. For some reason I like cheering for the English boys, some I'm a bit sad they won't be participating in a tournament that will boast the might of Austria (the lowest ranked host team EVER for a major tournament). It's all too weird for words.

Okay...on to more fun things. Being unable to afford an XBOX 360, and seeing how the kind folks at all things XBOX have decided not to realease this years FIFA game on plain old XBOX, i needed to fill this years new soccer game fix some how. So I bought Pro Evolution Soccer 5 for ten bucks (the last incarnation to come out on XBOX). And what can I say, accept that I think I've wasted years on the FIFA games when I could have been playing Pro Evo. (Alex will chuckle at this no doubt as he's been a fan since it's days as ISS on Nintendo 64). Yes, I was a poor sap that fell for FIFA's better licensing and graphics. What a fool I have been. PES5 is the best soccer game i've played, ever. It's f$%kin' hard for one thing. And after years of constant video-soccering, lord knows I needed a challenge. The ball physics really are as good as the all the fanboys say (while messing their pants). It's been a long time since I scored a goal in a soccer video game to win a game 1-0 and actually danced around my living room for the sheer joy of it. Alex, if you don't have it, you should get it. You can get it for practically nothing now, and it is quite simply pure bliss for a soccer nerd.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Liverpool seem to have multiple personality disorder. Absolutely mind boggling. They can draw against Birmingham and Blackburn, lose to Besiktas in Istanbul, and then do something like this. I don't know whether to laugh or to cry.

But, without further ado, here are all the goals of the biggest rout in the history of the modern Champions League (honestly, check it out, it's true). Babels first goal is simply superb. Back-heel flick in to the far post. Jaw-dropping. Go on son!

I'm just watching the replay of todays Carling Cup game between Liverpool and Cardiff City and this Moroccon dude from Liverpool's reserves cracked one in from around 25 yards. Awesome strike. If you can find it, have a look. I've tried to find a video of it in an uploadable format and can't (or can't be bothered). Anyway, his name is Nabil El Zhar, and I am praying for this guy to be awesome and make it into the first team just so a can say "Bam! Bam it up another notch with your spice weasel, El Zhar!"

This is nothing new, but I thought I'd spread the word to any who don't know about this. http://best.online.docus.googlepages.com/ is an excellent collection of documentaries that can be viewed streaming online. There are tons. My brother-in-law Travis put me on to this site ages ago. He highly recommended the Louis Theroux docs (located under the lifestyle/society- subculture) and I have to agree, they're great viewing. "The Most Hated Family in America" is pretty astounding stuff. Check it out. These guys are mental. The quote and title of this post occurs about 40mins in. Honestly, you gotta see it to believe it. What happened to this guy to make him hate homosexuals so much?

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

--------------------------------From Goal.comSublime Torres Hits Three As Liverpool Sail Through

As good a hat-trick as you’ll ever see from Fernando Torres helped Liverpool to a 4-2 win over Reading in the Carling Cup third round

...His hat-trick was complete five minutes from time. Gerrard, coming on as a late substitute fed another through ball for the pacy Torres to chase, he beat the offside trap and was one-on-one with the keeper. Perhaps his most difficult finish of the night was made to look easy. So many other strikers would have bottled it and powered wide or over, Torres took his time to round the keeper and slot home from two yards to complete a memorable night.

The tie and tomorrow’s headlines belong to the virtuoso Torres, who was simply outstanding. There were other positives for The Reds, Leto looked smart, as did Aurelio, coming back from long-term injury.

So Liverpool get through to the fourth round draw, having conceded their first goals from open play this season. That will not bother Benitez though, he’ll be busy working out the starting eleven for the weekend, and there’ll be hell to pay if Torres’ isn’t the first name down.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Monday, September 24, 2007

All right. It's official. I've lost patience with Rafa Benitez. It's hard to lose faith in someone who has guided your team to two Champions Leauge finals in three years (winning one), as well as winning the FA Cup in between, but this weekend's fiasco just might have done it. 0-0 at Pompey, I can handle. The 1-1 draw in Porto was better than we actually deserved. But nil-nil at home against Birmingham is unbearable.

Let me put it plainly: Just what in the fyack was Fernando Torres doing on the bench?

I don't give a shit that he played in midweek against Porto. He has been BY FAR Liverpool's most threatening player this season. The decision to leave him on the bench was retarded. Simple as that. For god's sake, the guy cost over 20million pounds. I have a suggestion. If he is breathing, he starts. I'm getting sick of this Liverpool Lucky Dip All-Stars crap. Build a goddamned team Rafa. If they are alive, the first names on the team sheet should be Reina, Carra, Gerrard, and Torres. Torres is 23 years old. Not 30. Think he got rested playing for Athletico? He's exactly the kind of talent we have been lacking to break down the dogged all-out defence we encountered on saturday. I could handle it if he was injured, but Benitez has publicly said it was a tactical decision. Wow. He's a genius. The mind boggles.

Sadly, even as a subsitute he created more than anyone else did the whole game (his backheel which sent Crouch and Gerrard through should have been a goal if Crouch hadn't stumbled like a drunken baby giraffe into Gerrards way just as he was about to smash it home). Oh and then there was that other little chance (have a look at the video in the post below). Unbelievable.

Friday, September 21, 2007

This past monday night the mighty Rooney's Uncle FC was presented with a chance to go even-top of the Brunswick Div 1 futsal ladder as we faced off against the so-far-undefeated first place team. Well my friends, the Uncle seized the opportunity with both it's meaty mitts, winning the game 4-2. We're even on points, but in second based on goal difference. Still, I like our chances.

Whisper it:

Could this be the Year of the Uncle? It just might be.

Now on to (even) more trivial news, I rented Spiderman 3 the other night (having resisted seeing it in the theater due ot almost unanimous calls that it sucks driveway-leak-spot oil residue). Still- it's got Venom in it. Like, dude. Venom.

Yeah...Venom...fuck me. Spiderman 3 is such a rancid turd it's hard to even discuss it. It features no plot, a miscellanious sand-monster (THAT ACTUALLY KILLED SPIDERMANS UNCLE, GASP!, even though we fucking well saw who killed his uncle in the first film), and possibly the worst dance number of all time. Seriously. Dance number.

Let me sum it up for you:Basically imagine the Anchorman jazz flute interlude (which is awesome), but if it featured Emo Spiderman (not awesome). Yeah...when the black Venom-making space-ooze infiltrates Peter Parker, what does it do? Turns him emo. You can almost see the actors vomiting a little bit in their mouths.

This is solid gold. The Chaser's War on Everything, basically the only thing good about Australian tv, yesterday puleld a stunt posing as an official motorcade at the APEC summit in Sydney. They did it as part of their TV show. The figured they'd get stopped at the first checkpoint (a reasonable assumption considering the security at the summit is the biggest and most intense security effort EVER in Aus history at a staggering $65 million). Well guess what. They didn't. They made it through TWO checkpoints and almost made it into the ultra-mega-super-restricted-est-zone-ever before being stopped. Ahhh, all that money is going to good use. When they were finally stopped, who was in their "official" limo? One of the Chaser crew dressed as Bin Laden. Needless to say, the cops are slightly embarrassed. Read here for more.

1- Get a good P2P tv program such as SopCast (downloadable from here). There are other programs as well, such as tvAnts, and as you get more into it you may very well want to download more than one (I currently use a few different ones) but SopCast is a good place to start. Basically, different programs tend to stream different channels so depending on which games you watch you might discover that you need more than one program.

2- Use a good link directory. There are a few websites around that provide tv guides with links so you can find the games you want. I recommend www.myp2p.eu. They always have a comprehensive list of what's on and which channel and program you need to watch it. In my experience most big games are available on SopCast or tvAnts. All you need to do is click on the football guide located on the left of the page (which is seperated into Weekdays, Saturday and Sunday). They usually show a list of what games are on about 3-4 days in advance, but the links which open the channels don't come live until the day itself. This is because the links often change at very short notice.

3- Have a big-ass download limit. Each game you watch streams at around 350kb a second for over 90 minutes. Basically, one game equals roughly 1 gig of download use. So if you are planning to watch a lot of games, make sure you've got the download to cope with it.

Go right here to read a wonderful list which includes the beating of a one-handed, two-fingered fan by Ty Cobb in 1912 to a video of Randy "The Big Unit" Johnson killing a dove with a 95-mile-an-hour fastball.

"Give me a K!"- By way of explanation hit TheBestNothing and watch the video. It's all gold. For some reason though the military chick screwing up on Wheel of Fortune made me laugh until I almost vomited. I think it's the look on Pat Sajak's face that does it. Is there a specific emotion for wanting to euthanise someone? 'Cause if there is, that's what it would look like.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Anyone who likes to listen to music while at their computer (which, let's face it, must be virtually everyone) has to visit this site: http://www.deezer.com/. It's a streaming music website that lets you search for basically anything you can think of and then stream it. You can set up multiple playlists, smart playlists, etc. It's like online iTunes. I've got it on at work right now. Absolute gold.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Well, now that I've had a day to calm down the venom I felt last night at Liverpool's robbery at the hands of Rob Styles has been replaced by serenity brought about by this amazing goal from Fernando Torres. If anyone thought he was going to be a flop in the Prem, just watch this. Sheer gold. He's exactly the kind of striker Liverpool has been lacking. Enjoy. I'm sure there will be much more of this to come.

Rob Styles, take a bow you useless sack of shit. If you think I'm just being biased then have a look at this. Congratulations you useless twat. The only saving grace of the evening comes from the fact that when I got home (at 3:30 am- I have to work tomorrow at 8:30) they were playing a Billy Joel Concert on tv and as I turned it on I got to hear "Piano Man". Which is sweet. But, to conclude, Rob Styles, you are a useless twat and I hope you and fucking Frank the Fat Cockney C*@t have a nice evening together. Bravo.

Friday, August 17, 2007

This is a link to an article in the Guardian about the designer of China's national stadium (known as the Bird's Nest), speaking out about the terrible state of human rights in China, and why he is going to boycott the Beijing Olympics (even though his stadium will be home to the opening ceremonies). A very interesting and inspiring read.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Voronin gets his first official goal for Liverpool on his full official debut. Not a bad way to open your account. Holy hell, this is a cracker. I reckon this dude's signing was a stroke of genius. What a little pony-tailed nugget!

Whattup. So, many of you may have noticed that this blog has featured nothing but football videos for...i dunno...134 posts in a row? Well, what can I say? I'm a lazy bitch.

I was gonna try and start this post with something un-football, but...screw that. The Prem has kicked off, i've gone into a football frenzy, and I'm Sopcasting my download limits to within an inch of their lives. TO the un-initiated, SopCast (and similar programs) let you watch tv from all over the world streaming live to your computer. In what can only be described as the biggest threat to my marriage since FIFA07 on xbox, I have been able to watch every single football match that my little heart desires. In a word it's friggin' brilliant. I recommend hitting up www.myp2p.eu for game listings and links.

In other football news, the mighty Rooney's Uncle FC fell at the semi-final stage of the cut-throat Brunswick Men's Division 1 Indoor Soccer League playoffs to our old nemisis, The Suicide Strikers. It was a close run thing, but we lost 8-6. It's too bad, too. We played really well. They just played better. For anyone who cares, I set up two and scored one. Probably my best offensive performance of the season. Too bad it didnt' really matter. Ah fuck it. The new season starts as soon as the playoffs are over. Which is next week. So, we get a whole week off before the mighty Uncle returns in hunt of glory once again.

Is anyone still reading this?

Yes. I know. I am a pathetic football nerd. If I have anything meaningful to say anytime soon, rest assured I will put it here. But I wouldn't hold your breath. Unless you like Andriy Voronin!

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

I watched the Liverpool season opener on the weekend, and I had heard about Ryan Babel and seen a bit, but when he came on he was an instant threat and changed the tempo of the game. And that was his first game ever in the Prem. If this guy gets comfortable, I feel bad for the defences trying to mark him. Watch this package. Holy hell.

Sweet jeebus. How many bicycle kicks can one guy score? I was actually getting bored by the end. Except for one thing...wait his number three goal of all time. It's one of the sweetest free kicks I've ever seen.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Sweet jeebus, I wanna go home. Worky work is extremely overated. I'm feelin a little flat this monday. This is probably for a variety of reasons. One is that I spent the entire weekend up at my friends cottage in Blackwood "working" on a new art exhibition/multi-media monstrosity. What this really entailed was more along the lines of drinking and smoking for two days solid, swiming in a 7 degree waterhole on a 10 degree morning, almost getting hit with a wrench "jokingly" thrown at me be David Gill (which may or may not have been an accident), and dangling melting plastic bags over a canvas to create, ahem, "art" and playing "Blackwood Bocce"- a kind of extreme sports version of Bocce which is, quite honestly, truly the Bocce of Kings. So...of course work is gonna blow after a weekend like that. Argghhhh....wanna write more but I have to go back and do something. This is wholeheartedly against my slothy ways. I'll be back soon. I hope. I wanna talk about the new Simpsons movie. Anyone seen it? I did. It was...actually you can just wait fro me to come back to that. Also, has anyone seen Ghost Rider? It is quite simply the worst film in the history of film. Perhaps even the worst attempt at entertainment since Org threw a rock at a sabertoothed tiger being hunted by Ack. More on that next time. In the meantime, wish us luck. The mighty Rooney's Uncle goes for it's fourth win on the bounce tonight. At the charming time of 10:40pm. Hurray for organized amateur sports.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I gotta admit that I didn't foresee so many of these astounding feats of human intelligence coming from work, but like so many other instances in my life, I should have known better. So what can the wonderful world of the Royal Melbourne Hospital Pharmacy Department throw at me this time?

Well, I got into work this morning to find a whole hell of a lot of drug shipments to be put away from yesterday (I don't work there on wednesdays). No big deal. That's pretty common. Only thing is, one of the shipment was a temperature sensitve shipment and had been left unrefrigerated since yesterday. Needless to say, the fucking thing was out of temp. range, creating an hour of extra paperwork and phone calls for me to take care of. Yipee hurray. Now, I don't want to whinge too much because the girls got slammed yesterday in my absence and they don't usually look after that stuff, plus the boxes were NOT clearly labeled "Store between 2-8 degrees C". So, I can't really blame them. What's theis posting about then, you ask? Well, in their infinite wisdom, management has decided that it will be fine to shut off the pharmacy cool room for an hour today, without any contingencies for moving the stock. Essentially what will happen is that they will assure me that the stock will remain between 2-8 degrees C, but (of course) it won't. Then I will spend the rest of my day phoning study coordinators to tell them that their extremely valuable stock may no longer be usable because my goddamn workplace refuses to do things properly. And for that, RMH Pharmacy gets another Astounding Feat of Human Intelligence. Thank you all very much.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

According to this article right here, Ryan Babel is set to become a Liverpool player. I know Arsenal have been tracking him for quite a while- Dutch coach likens him to a new Henry. Here's some clips. He certainly seems Henry-esque, cutting in from wide on the left all the time. Whether he's anyway near as good? Time will tell. If FIFA07 is anything to go buy, he's like a 91 by 2009. I should know. I bought him for Liverpool then. This is actually kinda bizarre that they are buying him now. These real life clips sure look promising. Could be a good buy.

So what the hell? I started this blog as a means to procrastinate with greater efficiancy throughout the always-fun end-of-semester university shit-storm. Problem is, the semester is now well and truly gone and I have no more precious time to waste. Now I've only got idle time to waste. What does it all mean? Not a fricken thing, my friends. Except that postings will probably lag because I don't have important work to interrupt with nonsensical jibberish writings. Or not...

So, at the moment I've returned to my old stomping ground in the Sterile Room (or Aseptic Suite if you want to sound snooty) to fill in while our Drug Slaves (I mean trainee-pharmacists) are at some conference. See, I used to work in here full time before moving into pharmaceutical clinical trials (testy-testy druggy-druggy on humany-humans, mwahahahaha) where I now spend my days. I gotta tell ya, it's nice to be back in the old sterlie room. The time flies and somehow being locked in an airlock by myself all day is strangely conducive to a happy Hamblore. I don't know what that says about my psychological well-being, but it's probably best not to think about it too hard.

Grand. Ahhh, last night marked the triumphant resurgance of the Mighty Uncle. Yes, after three absolutely shiteful weeks, Rooney's Uncle FC is back on the winning trail. Oddly we won while our regular keeper was away. And he's really good. He's gonna be pissed he wasn't there. We actually went down 2-0 in the first like two minutes, because Chris (henceforth referred to simply and humbly as "The Goat"), the brave soul who volunteered to take first shift in the proverbial line of fire, promptly shat his pants and let in two goals of such glorious comedic value that I won't even attempt to describe them here. He was thus kindly and gently ushered from goal and we set about catching up. And boy did we catch up. And then, slide right past and off into the distance. We ended up winning 7-4 (which really should have been 7-2 if not for The Goats excellent goallkeeping humour) and even included a rare and cherished goal from the Canstralian Sloth himself, finishing off an excellent three one-touch-pass move which absolutely and mercilessly shredded the other teams meager defense. The Goat meanwhile attoned for his previous sins by banging home three. Nice work boys. Very nice.

Well shit, I gotta go and "do work" or I'll "get fired", so...adios amigos. Till next time, keep fit and have fun.

P.s. Apparently we are playing against our good friends and tastefully named Suicide Strikers in a couple weeks. Watch this space. Could get interesting. It's nice to have a nemisis. I just hope they don't read this blog, cause I said some kinda unfriendly things about them before and they seem like the kind of boys who like a little of the old ultra-violence. Hurray!

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

What did you do this weekend? Did you go blind for an entire day, wander a sheep-grazing field getting harassed by floppy eared goats, climb over a barbed-wire/electric fence combo (still while blind) and then crawl around in a muddy creek on your stomach (again, still while blind)? That's what I did. Seriously. I'm not making any of this up. What in the sweet name of fuckery was I doing? Oh, helping my brother-in-law make a film of course.

Honestly, I should know better by now. I've acted in a few things for him before, and it always seems to end up with me being tortured in new and inventive ways. This time I had to have my entire face covered in liquid latex with big eye-wound things stuck over my eyes because my characters eyes had been gouged out and he wants them back (and is followed around by an evil demon of sorts- also played by me). So, yeah, I was actually blind for the whole day while we shot the eye-gouged guys scenes. And I honestly had to climb a barbed-wire electric fence while still in the fucking blinding makeup. Miraculously I wasn't hurt. Good times.

But seriously folks, the film should be pretty cool. I'm sure it'll get the good old You-Tube treatment when it's done, and I'll post it here. Now I'm going to rub moisturizer into my face because you should see what happens to your skin when you have to peel layer after layer of latex off, repeatedly. It's a cross between eczema and a sunburn. Hurray for films!

Friday, June 22, 2007

Our good friend Meghan, my wife and I were having a discussion about pregnancy and all the wonderful crap that women have to go through. Meghan, adament that the currently accepted system of "get it on, baby gestates inside mother, baby grows to there's-no-way-that-thing-can-fit-out-that-hole size, baby painfully exists that hole" is completely fucked, had this suggestion for an alternate baby-making process:

"Have sex. Baby grows on tree. C'Mon!"

To truly appreciate the genuine power of the comment, imagine that "C'Mon!" at the end to be uttered with Leytton Hewitt-ish earnest and verve.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Okay so the mighty Rooney's Uncle (my futsal team) had a game on monday night- our first since they collapsed 1st and 2nd division into one league due to a spate of dropped out teams. Now, Rooney's Uncle is a much better than average 2nd div team (we were 2nd or 3rd in the league until the merger). Anyway we played a team on monday night with the wonderfully creative name of The Suicide Strikers. Kinda like naming your team Ultra-Laser Champions or some shit. Or so I thought. Turns out the whole team was comprised of guys of middle eastern descent. This is nothing new. I live in an area that has a very large Lebanese community and most of the teams we play against are mostly either Greek, Turkish or Lebanese. But this team was...well...they were complete assholes. Really dirty, bitched at the ref about every call, real or imagined, and they brought an entire posse of assholes to cheer them on (in a suburban high school gym). And they are from the 1st division. Real winners.

So, we held our own but unfortunately let a 4-3 lead slip to lose 5-4. Not bad for a 2nd div team playing a 1st div team. Why is this filed under Astounding Feats of Human Intelligence? Well, because they thought it was funny to call their team the The Suicide Strikers.

I'm sorry. That shit ain't funny. Wonder how they'd feel if we called our team Mossad.So congratulations Suicide Strikers. For your contribution to inter-ethnic relations, you are Astounding Feats of Human Intelligence number 4.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

So...the pointy end of the university semester rears it's fanged and hungry head once more. With a week to go until three papers and a take home exam (that thinly-veiled academic torture device) are due, there is rarely a better time to waste some truly precious moments.

Thus, here I am my friends.

Today's task is to research the effects of English in foreign-language advertising so I can write a 2500 word paper on it tomorrow. But since the subject is decidedly even less exciting than it sounds, I figured I'd post what I'm listening to while I'm supposed to be working rather than actually working. Have you guys heard Blonde Redhead? No? Well, shit, until today neither had I. Since my good mate (and midfield maestro to Rooney's Uncle FC), Tristan, recommended it the other day I decided to give'em a whirl and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. Their latest is called "23". It's apparently called 23 because:

The 23rd hexagram of the I Ching is commonly known as "Splitting Apart", the point in a cycle where upheaval and disintegration enters in. The number 23, heralded by many an occultist and rag-tag philosopher is often considered a magical number associated with change, the point in a series where new energy comes in to transform the pre-existing condition and change the trajectory (Thank you Pitchfork Media).

Whatever. Anyway, it's rad. In the utmost. It's produced by the dude that produced Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. I recommend a listen.

Also worth a mention is TV On The Radio. It has sustained me through a number of dreary assignments this term. Most good.How can you not like something called "Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes"?

Friday, May 25, 2007

Okay, so according to this shitty "Good Morning America" style Aussie morning show, today is the 30th birthday of Star Wars. Now, I haven't checked their facts - something I probably really should have done, becuase this is a show that would rather celebrate the 30th anniversary of Star Wars over the 40th anniversary of the referendum which allowed Aborigines to vote... so yeah, their credibilty ain't too high. But fuck it. STAR WARS IS RAD!!!

Fuck yeah! So, everyone who has ever tried to do a flip off a diving board and catch a stick (that you pretend is a lightsaber) thrown to you by your younger brother or sister, but actually end up impaling your pancreas and slowly spiraling down to the bottom of the swimming pool as your blood ribbons out around you- this, my friends, is your day!

Okay, just to warn everyone, this post should probably be disregarded by all of society unless you are actually Hamblore the Canstralian Sloth. If you continue to read this, set your engines for Ranting Speed. You've been warned.

Okay...you know what I cannot tolerate? Superfluous pedantry. Otherwise known as retarded and pointless anal-retentiveness. Now the nature of my work (for those uninitiated of you, I work in pharmaceutical clinical trials), calls for quite a high tolerance of pedantry. Logs are checked, checked, triple checked, filled out in triplicate, blah blah blah. So, it takes a hell of a fucking lot to piss me off. But here we go. Today I rock up to work to find a note on my desk informing me that I am to go through every single individual patient log (that's a lot of logs people) and change all these little entires that some fucking dumb wench has marked with a vomitous little post-it note. Why do the entries have to be changed? Because, as far as I can tell, the vacuous harlet is sucking down vast quantities of ether and has lost the ability required for standard human cognition. She has politely asked me to change every instance that nothing has been returned, and which I have marked a zero (because to my feeble brain nothing=0), to be marked with a 2. Lets say this again. When they return no syringes, I'm supposed to write that they returned 2 syringes. Of course! I'm so stupid! Please pardon me, oh bwana of human intellect, you doyen of analytical thinking! 0 = 2!!!!! I am so ashamed of my pathetic attempt at logical reasoning!

Sweet merciful intergalactic robot jesus. I actaully have to spend the next hour to comply with this inane fuckery. Genius. Fucking genius.

Friday, May 18, 2007

You know whats fucking genius (besides the clip below of Mike Tyson's greatest hits, which includes quite possibly the the most astounding feats of human intelligence ever uttered by a single individual)? Filing very important invoicing documents in totally random and arbitrary folders. Not only is it easier than taking the time to file them where they belong (necessitating much difficult going-and-getting of numerous seperate folders) but it has the added bonus of making your co-workers spend precious hours toiling futily through every folder in the department to find said invoicing document while a guy from finance stands around impatiently tapping his foot until eventually sighing and proclaiming he will be back on monday and he really needs that invoice document. Who perpetrated this astounding feat of human intelligence? Who single handedly cut effeciency in my department by nearly 100% for two hours on tuesday morning?

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Being the lazy sloth-brained lazy-fish that I am, I can't work at something for more than 15 minutes before gettin' as tuckered out as...um...Chris Tucker? Okay, fuck that. I'm just trying to say I'm lazy, ok? So I'm supposed to be writing a paper on fucking inter-ethnic relations in France. Hurray for cultural sensitivity. This is a country that's got about as much sensitivity in it's inter-ethnic relations policies as a 62-year-old Vegas whore has in her slippy-slappy. Needless to say I found my way onto Man's Most Ultimate Time-Sucker, and let's face it, if ever I needed some encouragement to further my academic ambitions, it's now. What do they give me? This little pearl about what to expect after I graduate. Enjoy. (It's not really ha-ha funny, more "what-the-hell-is-the-goddamned-point-kill-me-now" funny.) Whatever. Posting this let me kill ten minutes that could have been used wisely. And you should all know how I feel about that.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

For the inaugural posting in this perhaps-frequently-occurring series we have a gem from none other than the most gentlemanly and sporting man ever to grace the velvety green carpet of Old Trafford, the cuddliest and wuddliest of all Irishmen, the ambassador of God to Cork and recently successful manager of the mighty Black Cats: take a bow Roy Keane.

Taken from his masterfully executed and cleverly titled memoirs, Keane: The Autobiography, the passage is simply breathtaking in its simplicity, an immaculately succinct and forthright expression of his sentiment, a quote so emblematic of the great man that this humble author suggests it would not be out of place gracing Master Keane’s tombstone on that grey Irish day that the magnificent former King of Manchester passes from this world to eternity!

Following a typically fair though, unfortunately (and surely accidentally), leg-breaking tackle on his most respected Manchester City opponent Alfie Haaland, Sir Roy Keane of the Court of Noble and Sporting Conduct had these fine words to comfort his fallen but worthy foe as he lay writhing upon on the turf: